Robert rose from his seat and came to his niece’s side, giving her a hug. “Liddy, nobody is gonna kill you. We can get you protection. Whatever plea bargain the prosecution offers, you need to take it if Sam thinks it’s in your best interest. It looks to me as if you fell into this before you knew what you were into, and now you’re in deep.”
“Who are they, and who has been killed, Miss Fanning?” Sam inquired, never looking up. Notepad and pencil in hand, he scribbled as she talked.
“I don’t know who they are. Possibly the Colombians, but I don’t know.”
“Could you identify the men you heard that night,” Sam asked, still not looking up from the pad where he continued to write.
“Yes, I can identify them. I know them. They work for Jackie Lee, and I recognized their voices.”
“Very good, now who has been killed?” Robert asked, searching Liddy’s face.
“I don’t know, exactly. I heard Gunther and Lenny talkin’ with some other men about it. One was a game warden. That’s the only one I actually saw. It was late at night—well past midnight. I couldn’t sleep. It was around Halloween.” She paused for another drink. “No, it was Halloween night. I remember it now. I woke up and stumbled over to the window for some fresh air. The smell of pot was so thick in the air, and I was nauseated. The moon was shinin’ bright, and I looked down from my upstairs window.” Liddy shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Robert reached over to a box of tissues he kept in the room. Pulling one from the box, he handed it to Liddy.
“Liddy, do you think you can continue now?” Robert asked.
She nodded and swallowed hard. “It was then that I saw it—a man wrapped in a blanket. They, Slim and Jimmy, were carryin’ him to the truck. I heard Jackie Lee yellin’ at Gunther for bringin’ the body back to the house in the first place. I heard them, that is Slim and Jimmy, say that the game warden had been found nosin’ around up in the holler. That’s where they killed him, and that’s where they took him back to... back to the holler. He’s buried somewhere up there in Coldwater Holler, but I don’t know his name or exactly where they buried him. He’d accidentally stumbled into one of the coves where they grow the pot. One of Jackie’s men shot him and brought him down to the house, and then that night they took him back up there—back up to the holler and buried him.”
Liddy wiped a few tears, shaking her head. “I don’t know nothin’ about the rest, only that there are others. It was a week or so later when I couldn’t sleep again. And again it was around midnight. I heard a man with a heavy Spanish accent sayin’ that the body count would get higher if there was a double cross, but I don’t know what he meant. Now I figure they want me to be part of that body count.” Liddy burst into a new rush of sobs as Robert held her.
“Liddy, did you get a good look at the man with the Spanish accent?” Robert tenderly asked.
“I’ve seen him once before. He’s known as ‘The Colombian.’ That’s all I know, but yes, I could identify him,” Liddy said in between shed tears.
“It’s all right, Liddy. It’s gonna be all right.”
Sam, who’d been rapidly jotting down notes, glanced up at the door. Two people were standing in the doorway. He stared at them, wondering how much they’d heard.
“Lizzy? Fitzwilliam?” Robert called out.
“Uncle, I signed the document you had for me and wrote the check. I left them with Andrea.” Elizabeth’s face was white, while Fitzwilliam’s jaw was clenched hard.
“How long have you been standin’ there?” Robert asked, getting up from his chair to approach Fitzwilliam with his hand extended.
“Long enough to hear how serious this is,” Fitzwilliam flatly answered, taking the offered hand.
“Well then, you know this must be kept in confidence…for Liddy’s sake.”
“Yes, we realize that.” Fitzwilliam walked into the room, followed by his wife. “I have my own reasons for wanting it kept as quiet as possible and my wife’s name kept out of it.”
“I’m sorry, Fitzwilliam, but it’s too late for that. We’re all in this hip deep,” Robert said, motioning for Andrea, who’d also just come to the door.
“Andrea, have Marsha take Liddy home, and then get my sister on the phone. Liddy’s emotionally distraught. Her mother may need to call her doctor.”
“Yes, sir, I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you, Andrea.” Robert turned around to face Fitzwilliam’s cold stare. “Mr. Darcy, none of us want to be a part of this nightmare, but Lizzy is part of this family, and as such, she or Jane has to write the checks to pay the expenses or sign whatever papers are required to release money for this case. I’m puttin’ some of my own money up front, but Lizzy’s brother is payin’ the bulk of it.”
“I know, Robert, and it’s Fitzwilliam. My father is Mr. Darcy. You must understand. I am trying to protect my family, and Elizabeth is part of that family. If news of this reaches Britain, the tabloid press will milk it for all they can, which in turn, will have an undesirable effect on my family. My relationship with my father is tenuous at best, and this will only worsen the situation.” Fitzwilliam twisted his wedding band, his face etched with anxiety while Liddy sat in her chair, bawling. Robert moved to her side, again attempting to comfort her.
“I’m sorry, Fitzwilliam. We’re all doin’ the best we can. I hope it doesn’t cause problems for you and Lizzy with your father,” Robert said as he continued to rub Liddy’s back.
“I hope not, too. Things are complicated enough as they are. Whatever ramifications fall from this, I’ll deal with them. It’s just that I wish to avoid publicity whenever possible.” Fitzwilliam drew in a deep breath, obviously worried that the situation was spinning out of his control. “I can see you have a lot of work to do, and I don’t want to get in your way. Liz and I must go now. We have a lot of work of our own to do at home.” Fitzwilliam glanced over in Elizabeth’s direction, motioning for her to come.
“Well, before you leave, I want you to meet my old friend Sam Armstrong. Sam, this is my niece, Elizabeth Darcy, and her husband, Fitzwilliam.” Robert gestured to Sam, who placed his pencil down.
Rising to walk in their direction, Armstrong offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too, sir,” they both said as they shook hands.
“I wish we could have met under more pleasant circumstances,” Fitzwilliam said, a strained smile tightening his lips.
“As do I, Fitzwilliam, as do I.”
Fitzwilliam turned to Robert. “Robert, we really must go. You are busy, and we need to eat. I have over fifty papers to mark by morning. Ring us up, and we’ll have dinner.”
“I’ll speak with Tana, and we’ll call. Let me escort you out.”
Robert saw Fitzwilliam and Lizzy to the door where the stairs led to the first floor and said goodbye, kissing Lizzy’s cheek and shaking Fitzwilliam’s hand. He let out a long breath in a whispering whistle as he traversed back into the conference room.
Sam, who had been rather quiet up until now, began rummaging through his briefcase. Locating what he was looking for, he pulled it out and stood up, sliding back his chair. He went around the table to where Liddy sat and handed her the bundle. “Miss Fanning, this package is for you. It contains a selection of old newspapers and my personal report on the last case I handled that was similar to yours. I want you to read everything in this file. Do you understand me?” He hooked her chin with his forefinger to insure he had eye contact.
“Yes, sir,” she said weakly.
“Good. A test will follow the next time we meet.” He turned on his heel and walked back to take his seat where he picked up his pencil and once again began to scribble.
Andrea entered the conference room and took Liddy by the hand, escorting her outside to the other assistant who would drive her home. Once Liddy was securely in Marsha’s care, Andrea picked up the phone and dialed Mrs. Fanning’s number. When Lydia was on the line
, Andrea peeked into the room. “Mr. Bennett, your sister is on line one.”
“Thanks, Andrea. It’s after five. You can go home now.” Robert wiped his brow wearily as he reached for the phone.
“Lydia.”
“Robert, how is my baby? Where is she?”
“Calm down, Lydia. Liddy is fine. Marsha is drivin’ her home as we speak. They should be there in twenty minutes. Liddy’s very upset. If you need to, call her doctor to see if he can give her somethin’. That is if you think it’s needed. I have more to discuss with Sam. From what Liddy has told us, I think we have somethin’ to go on. It looks promisin’. I’ll tell you more when it’s settled.” He sat on the conference table and rubbed his brow, trying to relieve the stress, knowing there were hours of consultation yet to come.
“Thanks, Robert. I don’t know what I would do without you. It’s been a long time in coming, but I want you to know that I love you and appreciate all you are doing for Liddy.”
“I love you, too, Sis. Everything will be all right. Trust me, Lydia. I need to go now.”
“I do, and Robert…”
“Yeah?”
“Ron would be proud of you if he could see you.”
“Thanks, Sis. Now don’t you worry about a thing. This is all gonna work out.” Robert hung the phone up, hoping he spoke the truth.
Once the room was cleared of all but Sam and Robert, Sam put down his pencil.
“Well, we have our strategy. Liddy was a witness to a murder. Once we dig a little, no pun intended, we’re going to find a body.” Picking his pencil back up, he tapped it against the table. “I’m bringing in my investigating team. I’m going to put feet to the pavement. The first order of business will be to contact Fish and Wildlife and find out who’s missing from among their ranks. Then I want a warrant and a pair of cadaver dogs to find that grave and any others. I suspect we may find a graveyard full of bodies. Nunley’s charges are about to include at least one murder charge—maybe more. When I have all of my strategy planned out, I’ll approach the prosecutors for a deal. Liddy can identify the culprits, including the Colombian.”
Throwing down the pencil, Sam stretched back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “Nunley’s looking at a capital murder charge in a drug related crime—and that, my friend, as you well know, carries the death penalty in a federal case. We’ll know more when Miss Fanning is formally charged, but I’m hoping to cut a deal with the prosecuting attorney for immunity. I feel certain I can get the state charges dropped,” he said with a smile. “It’s the feds I’m concerned with. It all depends on how strong their case is, but if we do go to trial, I’m going to use a similar defense to the one I used in the Nelson case. Liddy is a victim—a victim of an unscrupulous man. If your niece doesn’t blow my strategy, we’ll succeed.”
Getting up from his seat and walking over to where Robert stood, Sam put his hand on Robert’s shoulder. “It’s going to work out, my friend,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Do you still own Jack and Jill?”
Robert met his friend’s stare, a smile crossing his features. “No, and even if I did, they would be too old. However, the Plateau County Sheriff’s Department owns their descendants. They have the best K-9 division in the state, and that includes the bloodhound cadaver dogs.”
Sam slapped his old friend on the back. “Tomorrow, I go to work. As I said before, the first order of business is a little talk with the Fish and Wildlife Agency. Have Andrea find me a house close to the town square, if possible. I want to be within walking distance to the courthouse, the sheriff’s office, and your office. Let’s get some supper and come back here. We need to roll up our sleeves and burn the midnight oil.”
Chapter Thirty
…I promised your parents …I would protect you… and protect you I shall…
Taking their seats at Tucker’s All You Can Eat Buffet, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam settled in, though neither was hungry.
“Fitzwilliam, you’re upset. You haven’t said two words since we left my uncle’s office. Won’t you talk to me?”
He glanced up from his plate. “Upset is not the word for it. You Americans appall me. You still execute people—how barbaric!”
“Fitzwilliam, I think you misunderstood. No one is going to be executed. Sam Armstrong was simply trying to make a point with my dense cousin. She doesn’t exactly have a corner on the market when it comes to good sense. You have to use sensationalism to garner her attention. That’s all.”
“No, I distinctly heard Mr. Armstrong say that one of his clients was on death row in Alabama. While you were busy with your uncle’s legal assistant, I heard him say those very words. You may not have heard him, but I certainly did.”
“Fitzwilliam, calm down! I did hear him say that, and you and I should not have been listening. Furthermore, you shouldn’t have gone to the door like you did.”
“Enough, Elizabeth. I was so shocked by what I heard that I was drawn to that door like a magnet to steel, and it’s my belief that this entire situation is rotten to the core.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and shook her head. She knew what really concerned her husband, and it wasn’t the death penalty in Alabama. Opening her eyes, she released a deep breath. “Fitzwilliam, look at me.”
He raised his eyes from his plate where his food sat barely touched.
“You’re worried, aren’t you?”
“Worried?” He raised a brow. “Whatever makes you think that?! Of course I’m worried. I don’t know how this can be contained, and my family—or should I say our families—will suffer greatly because of it. I just hope my father will not cast me aside. In spite of what I’ve said, I do love him, and I can’t bear to see him suffer because of—”
“Me.” Putting her knife and fork down, she placed both hands on the table. “I’m sorry… I’m really sorry my family will cause you pain—that they are such an embarrassment,” she retorted. “Liddy is an embarrassment to me, too. Do you think it’s easy for me to endure the stares and whispers I get every day? I want to fall through the cracks in the floor. I’ve told you before that Liddy doesn’t have enough sense to be ashamed for herself.” Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes. “I’m holding up for my family’s sake, but I am deeply mortified by all that we now know, knowing that soon—very soon, everything will be exposed.”
He reached across the table and took Elizabeth’s hand in his. “Elizabeth, don’t worry. We’ll bear this together. It’s just that I worry about my father. He’s always been robust and vigorous. He’s sixty-two and in a constant state of agitation, especially with me of late, and I’ve begun to worry about his health. The last time I saw him he looked pale and sickly. It’s not like him at all.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You’ve never voiced that concern before. Is there something wrong with him?”
“No, not that I know of, but I can’t help but worry. He looked thinner, more drawn, and much older than he did last summer.” He stopped short. He didn’t want to talk or think about his father any longer. If anything happened to him, he knew he’d feel responsible, even if he wasn’t. He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Come on. Let’s go. Neither of us appears to be very hungry. You have a test to prepare for your Cal II students, and I have a pile of papers to mark.” He threw down a generous tip and helped Elizabeth with her coat.
~*~
That night, after all their work was completed, Fitzwilliam decided to forgo the scheduled reading from his family journal. Somehow he just didn’t feel like reading. As he’d done every night since their wedding, he held Elizabeth close after making love, but instead of tender thoughts, his mind was a thousand miles away across the ocean.
…My dad is going to be furious. Well, I did say I would be willing to give up my inheritance for her, and I suppose it will come to that now. But what about my dad? I’m really worried about him. What would become of the family if something were to happen to him? He has always depended on me. He looked down at Elizabeth a
sleep in his arms. I worry about her, too. She really doesn’t handle stress very well at all. I’ll have to protect her as best I can. I love you, Elizabeth. I promised your parents at their graveside that I would protect you, and protect you I shall. Good night, my Liz.
He gently rolled her out of his arms and snuggled close behind her back. Pulling her in an embrace, his hand cupped her breast. Soon they were both fast asleep.
London, England
Sitting around the conference table in a plush corporate suite, Harry Dashwood scanned the room, examining the faces of all present. Edmund and Henry Darcy, second cousins to George’s sons, were there. The brothers hated Fitzwilliam and David—envious of their status in London and the fact that they enjoyed a privileged lifestyle to which Edmund and Henry felt was denied to them. Yes, they would be willing to help, and more than willing to sink their teeth into their more affluent cousins. Dashwood smirked.
Also present was Edward Darcy, another second cousin, with an inflated ego and an overrated sense of his own self-importance. Looking and waiting to exact his revenge, Edward managed the L.A. office of Darcy Technologies, but believed his real worth would be in a position on the board of directors, which George had denied him. Yes, he was a very useful fool indeed!
Dashwood moved on as he scrutinized the room. Ah, Charles Wilson! Yes, Charles, married to Lora Darcy, a third cousin, managed the New York office of Darcy & Winthrop Publishing. He also coveted a position on the board. He would be more than willing to help. Lastly, there was Sean Ashton, overseer of the Ottawa office in Canada, another second cousin by marriage with a reputation for insatiable avarice and greed. Any form of vice could be useful.
Glancing to his left, he spied Jonathan Stanley, Executive Director of Management in charge of Darcy & Winthrop Publishing, International, and Jason Wesley, likewise of Darcy Technologies. And then there was himself. Harry had married Samantha Darcy, the sister of George and Harvey, shortly after graduating from Christ Church, Oxford. It had been a convenient step-up into the most powerful family in the United Kingdom. Harry smiled to himself. All three had been contemporaries of George Darcy, and all had attended university together. When George had inherited Pemberley, he had taken them on as business associates. Harry, because of his marriage to Samantha, had quickly risen up the corporate ladder to Executive Director in charge of management operations for British American Petroleum, the heart of Pemberley, PLC. The other two had moved up a little slower.
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